


Symbel

by DarkDragonne



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint is affected by Loki's mind control too, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Thor 2 Spoilers, post Thor TDW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDragonne/pseuds/DarkDragonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony didn't expect Thor to break down during the feast the Avengers held in his honor. Hell, Tony never expected Thor to break down at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbel

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Thor 2 about a week ago, but I thought I might as well wait until it came out in the US to post this.
> 
> Symbel is a name for Norse feasting rituals.
> 
> Also, this fic might get fanart at some point in the future from someone I know, so stay tuned.

After meeting gods and aliens, flying through the wormhole, fighting alongside the Hulk and Captain motherfucking America, Tony Stark liked to think there wasn’t much that could surprise him. After all, what could the universe throw at him that he hadn’t seen already?

 

That didn’t mean he’d expected the email. He got a lot of these, of course, came with being a billionaire superhero and all. Still, he didn’t remember ever talking to Jane Foster. JARVIS drew his attention to that particular message, forwarding it to Tony instead of going over it himself (and probably deleting it, what with being programmed to archive most anything that wasn’t marked URGENT, or WWIII or something).

 

The message itself was even weirder that he’d thought- Thor was back on planet, apparently, a week after he showed up in London (and simultaneously destroyed the place), and this time he was here to stay. And for some reason, he’d asked Dr. Foster for ‘enough meat and mead for a man to feast on’. Which, in Thor standards, meant ‘enough meat and mead for ten men and a really hungry elephant’. Between the lines, Tony realized she was asking for food funds for her gigantor boyfriend. A lot of food funds.

 

He wasn’t going to let that slide, Tony decided, and didn’t send her a check to buy meat and mead and a small elephant.

 

No way was the big guy going to celebrate his victory alone. Tony had a few phone calls to make.

 

***

 

Pepper had raised an eyebrow when Tony told her he wanted one of the Tower’s official dining rooms redecorated as a Norse banquet hall, complete with themed food and cutlery. Eventually she managed to convince him to ‘tone it down’, with the excuse of not being ‘culturally offensive’ or something. Listening to Pepper was generally a good course of action, especially after Extremis, which meant she could literally explode when she was angry. Still, Tony was a creative guy. He could work with her limits.

 

By the time the rest of the team arrived, the Tower was stocked with actual mead (and other types of booze), plenty of meat (including an actual roasted boar), and all in all more that enough food for five people and a Thor.

 

They arrived one by one at the newly renamed Avengers Tower (not that he’d ever managed to get all the Avengers there since New York).

 

Steve came in on his antique motorcycle, which Tony would never stop teasing him for. He’d also never admit he thought it was sort of cool, in a 1940’s, hipster kind of way. Bruce took a taxi from the airport, after calling to make sure Tony didn’t pick him up himself because the Other Guy didn’t like the press that would probably follow Tony around.

 

Nobody knew exactly _how_ Natasha and Clint arrived, only that they were suddenly in the lab where he was giving Bruce the grand tour, and even JARVIS didn’t notice them coming in.

 

There was something off about Clint, Tony noticed as the two assassins joined the tour. Something jittery about his motions. And Nat was watching him more closely than ever.

 

“And that’s it,” Tony concluded his tour of the renovated tower, leading the group into one of the sitting rooms, a large space with plenty of black leather couches, coffee tables, a TV, and a bar.

 

“And what about Thor?” Bruce asked. It was a valid question, seeing as this entire party was _for_ Thor, after all. “When is he planning to, ah, show up?”

 

“No idea,” Tony replied cheerfully. “Until he does, drinks, anyone?” Without waiting for an answer, he moved back behind the bar and started pouring out glasses for the lot of them.

 

It was weird, having them all here like this, more than a year after New York. They looked a bit different, all of them, not only Clint. Bruce’s hair was a bit longer, Natasha’s was straightened out. Only Steve was the same as he’d been the past 70 years, as if Captain America wasn’t capable of change. Judging by the wary looks he occasionally gave Tony’s ‘bots, that was pretty much true.

 

“So what have you guys been up to?” He asked, wondering if he was the only one who’d had to deal with an organization of murderous psychopaths.

 

“Acclimating, mostly,” Steve was the first to answer. “Looked up some old friends. Didn’t meet up with most of them.” He didn’t have to say why- they al knew Steve’s ‘old friends’ were, by now, _very_ old. If they were even alive.

 

“I can’t say I did anything very interesting,” Bruce said before Steve could get lost in his thoughts. “I returned to India. Saving people without, uh, smashing them is a nice break.” He looked kind of uncomfortable at that last sentence, and Clint quickly took over.

 

“I can tell you about all the missions we went on, but that’s not what you want to hear, right?” He turned to Bruce and Steve, and Tony could swear Legolas was smirking behind those sunglasses of his. “He just wants to tell us about AIM. Right, Tony?”

 

“I’m not gonna complain if you want me to tell you,” Tony replied with a grin of his own.

 

“AIM?” Steve asked, confusion written all over him.

 

“You really need to figure out how to work a TV, Capsicle,” Tony shrugged, “It was all over the news, wasn’t it? Basically, big evil organization, trying to create superhumans but just making them go boom instead.”

 

As if on cue, a distant _boom_ sounded, followed by the roll of thunder, and JARVIS’ voice announced, “Sir, Thor Odinson is at the front door.”

 

“Long story short,” Tony announced as he got to his feet and motioned for the others to follow him to the elevator, “We kicked their asses. Or, well, Pepper did. Doesn’t matter.” He turned away as if to cut the conversation short, then turned back and added for dramatic measure, “Oh, and you can all kiss the ARC reactor bye-bye.” He tapped his chest, rewarded by the utter lack of metallic noise, and couldn’t help but smirk at their stunned looks as the elevator made its way down to the first floor.

 

***

 

Thor was waiting at the front door when they arrived, a smile spreading over his face as he saw them coming. “Hey there, Point Break,” Tony grinned, looking over the god. “Lost the cape?” Thor was dressed in casual clothes rather than his usual armor, a simple grey shirt and black pants. It made him look weird. Human.

 

“It is impractical to wear armor daily on Midgard,” Thor replied simply, his voice just as loud as Tony remembered.

 

“So you’re really here to stay?” Natasha asked, even though Tony was pretty sure she already knew the answer. She had her sources.

 

 _Something_ flashed over Thor’s face, an expression that was gone too quickly for Tony to figure out what it was. “Asgard no longer needs me. I have more reason to stay in this realm.”

 

“Well, it’s good to have you here,” Steve concluded.

 

“Agreed. Now what was that about a party?” Clint asked.

 

“Freeloader,” Tony shot back, but ended up leading them back inside anyway.

 

“Right this way,” he said, heading in the general direction of the redecorated dining room. “Nice job in London, by the way. Dark Elves, was it?” No one could say Tony hadn’t done his research on Norse Mythology after meeting Thor. Speaking of which, he really should get around to asking him about that time he and Loki went crossdressing…

 

“Indeed,” Thor confirmed, “It was a hard-won battle. The Dark Elves are… dangerous foes.” There it was again, the slight shift in his expression Tony couldn’t quite place.

 

“Is there any chance they will attack earth again?” Natasha asked, and Tony wondered just how many questions Fury told her to ask. Or she simply knew what Fury was going to ask her later. Or maybe these questions were all her. You could never tell with her, and it was disconcerting.

 

“None,” Thor said decisively, “I have seen their destruction myself.”

 

“You… committed genocide?” Bruce frowned, and even Tony thought the thunder god could have phrased it better.

 

“I was merely continuing the work of my grandfather,” Thor countered with enough finality that no one argued. “They could not be allowed to live.”

 

By the time they reached the door leading to the dining room, Bruce was grilling Thor for information on the portals between the worlds on the Convergence and how they worked, and was met with obvious disappointment when Thor didn’t have an explanation from him. He did manage to get Thor to promise he’d have Jane send her theories over.

 

“So,” Tony announced just before he opened the door, “seeing as this is a celebration for Asgard’s victory and all that, I thought I might as well try setting up something more or less Norse here. JARVIS? Open the door.” At his command, the door swung open, revealing the long wooden table with the roast boar and tankards of mead. Judging by Thor’s face, he did ok, more or less. “No place like home, eh?” He told the god.

 

And judging by Steve’s smile, he understood that reference.

 

***

 

Twenty minutes in, and Thor had already eaten about half of the boar and drank five tankards of mead. It was earth stuff, not Asgardian alcohol, so it made sense he was able to hold so much. Still, it was an impressive amount and the god showed no signs of slowing down. It looked like he was trying to eat and drink as much as he could, even if it killed him. Metaphorically, of course. Tony was pretty sure Thor wasn’t going to be killed by overdozing on roast boar.

 

Inspired by Thor’s massive drinking skills, a contest immediately started between Clint and Natasha and himself. Bruce refused to touch the alcohol, saying he didn’t want to lose control, and Steve refused to participate on principle, even though Tony was pretty sure the entire supersoldier serum thing meant he could drink them all under the table.

 

Even without Steve, Natasha still managed to kick both their assess, which was unfair really, because come on, Russian with super-serum?

 

“Stop whining and drink,” was all she said when Tony decided to point that out.

 

An hour into the feast, and none of them could bring themselves to eat any more, with the exception of Thor, who was still eating methodically, more for the purpose of eating than to enjoy the food.

 

Somewhere between the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in Tony’s system and the haze clouding his thoughts that came with eating too much, he found himself wondering if something was really off with Thor. He was acting like he always was, laughing and joking in his booming voice and drinking much more than a human liver could survive… he was acting too much like himself.

 

That thought made no sense.

 

 _You’re drunk, Tony,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pepper sounded in his head, and he mentally grumbled at it to go away. Still, maybe she… or himself, probably, was right, and he should really stop thinking. That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

 

“Katniss, what are you doin’ on my booze?” Sometime during the feast, Clint had drunkenly climbed to the top of a liquor cabinet in the corner of the room and was sitting on it, perched in a scarily accurate impression of a bird.

 

“Let him be,” Natasha suggested, and Tony shrugged. As long as he wasn’t breaking anything… hell, even if he did break something Tony could just get a new one of whatever it was.

 

“I’d like to propose a toast?” He suggested, lifting his half-full tankard. “To Thor kicking the Dark Elves’ asses?”

 

Bruce laughed, probably more at the half-drunk way he said it than at the actual toast, and Steve shook his head but raised his drink anyway. “To Thor,” the Cap said, and the rest of them echoed him.

 

“For Asgard,” Thor gave his own toast, downing what was left of his drink.

 

“So what actually happened there?” Tony asked, “I mean, we know what happened in London. But on your end? You never got around to telling us.”

 

“You are asking what happened on Asgard?” Thor asked to confirm.

 

“Yep, pretty much.”

 

“It is a long and complicated story,” Thor said, and Tony was pretty sure that was Thorspeak for ‘I don’t want to talk about it’.

 

“Then give us the short version!” Clint shouted from the top of the cabinet.

 

“Malekith invaded Asgard,” Thor said, words dragging out almost reluctantly. “There were many casualties…” he paused for a moment before adding, “and I travelled to the Dark Realm, Svartalfheim, to lure him out and stop him from destroying the Nine Realms.”

 

“I’m assuming you stopped him, right?” Tony asked. “I mean, we’re not dead, I think. Pretty shitty heaven if we are”

 

“I did. He is dead, as are the rest of his people,” Thor confirmed, taking yet another drink.

 

Tony knew there was another question he should ask, should have asked a long time ago, but he couldn’t put his finger on it…

 

It was Bruce who managed to ask the question on all their minds. “And, uh, what about Loki?” There it was.

 

“Probably helped Mal-whatever or something,” Clint speculated, alcohol completely destroying whatever brain-to-mouth filter he had.

 

“Not unless Malekith broke him out,” Natasha argued.

 

“If they really kept him prisoner,” Bruce countered.

 

“Of course they did!” Clint said, almost angrily, “They’re not idiots!”

 

“No, but—“ Steve started, but Clint didn’t let him finish.

 

“He probably sat back in his cell and watched the pretty explosions. Bet he got a kick out of it.”

 

“Not if the explosions were anywhere near him,” Tony added helpfully.

 

“Maybe he even let ‘em in, wouldn’t put it past him,” Clint’s tone was bitter now.

 

“Barton, maybe you shouldn’t—“ Once again, Steve wasn’t allowed to finish.

 

“Don’t even know why you bother,” Clint started, and he was definitely drunk. “Wasn’t like it could have turned out any other way with him, God of Lies and—“

 

“Clint!” Natasha interrupted, just as a loud crash sounded, followed by the smaller shattering sounds of ceramic and glass plates breaking on the floor. Clint let out a small shout as he fell from the cabinet to the floor, breaking the fall with his hand.

 

The table was split in two where Thor had put down his fist, punching straight through it. His hand was raw and bleeding, and his hair hung over his downturned face, loose strands drifting into his.

 

“Loki…” The utter silence in the room following the crash was broken by Thor’s voice, softer than Tony had ever heard. “Loki is…” he looked up, hair shifting aside, and there was a single tear rolling down his cheek, and _holy shit_ was Thor crying?

 

“He… he saved my life…” Thor sounded more broken than any of them had ever seen him, even when his brother was trying to enslave humanity, even when said brother threw him off the Helicarrier. And there was something so _wrong_ with seeing Thor like that. He was always this big, infallible giant of a god, quick to laugh and able to eat like a champion and the best man who could have your back in a fight. He was centuries old, and they were all sure there was nothing that could possibly break him. But here he was, his voice almost a whisper as he said, “I couldn’t save him...”

 

And Tony knew what the next sentence would be before it was even said.

 

“Loki is dead.”

 

And Thor was unable to hide the way his face crumpled, the tears spilling from his eyes, and he turned around and left the room without looking at them, leaving the rest of the Avengers in absolute silence.

 

It was Bruce who finally spoke, voice flat as he told them, “Norsemen honored the passing of a warrior with a feast.”

 

***

 

“I’m not going to apologize,” Clint said flatly, perching on the edge of a chair, eyes wide and angry and _scared_.

 

“Look, we’re not telling you to weep over Loki’s grave!” Tony replied heatedly. The silence that followed Thor’s leaving was almost immediately followed by arguments, as Tony turned to accuse Clint of provoking him like that, because how the hell could he _not_ be sorry about bringing Thor to that state?

 

“All we’re asking is that you reconcile with Thor. For his sake, not Loki’s,” Steve tried to reason with the archer, to no avail.

 

“Loki scrambled my fucking _brains!”_ Clint’s reply came, indignant and furious, with just a hint of madness in it.

 

“Thor never hurt you!” Tony countered.

 

“Stark, enough!” Natasha got to her feet, all calmly collected anger hidden behind a rock-hard face. “Don’t you even start—“

 

“You’re on _his_ side?” Tony cut into her words. She was supposed to be the reasonable one on the team!

 

“Damn well she is, and let me tell you—“ Before Clint got to finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the grating screech of a chair dragging across the floor.

 

Bruce was standing, chair thrown to the side, and his chest was heaving with carefully controlled breaths. And Tony hoped he’d imagined it, but for a moment there, that might have been a flash of green in his eyes.

 

“I’m getting out of here,” Bruce said simply, walking out of the room. No one followed. They didn’t want to risk pissing him off even more.

 

“I’m outta here too,” Clint announced, pushing his chair back and walking away. “I’m not taking any more of your shit.”

 

“Barton, don’t do this,” Steve told the archer’s retreating back, only to be completely ignored.

 

“And then we were three,” Tony pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache beginning to develop. “Bruce was right. We’re a disaster. Where the hell are you going?” The latter was directed at Natasha, who’d gotten up as well, leaving him alone at the remains of the table with Steve.

 

“To deal with Clint,” She answered simply, and Tony groaned.

 

“What now, Cap?” He asked tiredly, “Got any pep talk memorized?”

 

“I don’t—“

 

“Damn. Could have used one.”

 

They sat in silence, stewing in their own thoughts. It was a lot to take in, really. Tony knew he should feel relief at knowing Loki was dead. But every time he tried to tell himself there was one less genocidal maniac in the world, his mind went back to Thor and the broken look on his face.

 

“Go talk to Banner,” Steve broke the silence in a tired voice. Tired, but still every inch the Captain. “I’ll try to speak with Thor…”

 

“No, you go calm Bruce down,” Steve was probably better at this sort of thing anyway. Tony usually just got people angrier. “I’ll deal with Point Break.”

 

***

 

It was only after Clint found himself out on a balcony on the 23rd floor of the Avengers Tower, just outside the wrecked dining room, that he realized he’d forgotten his jacket and that New York could get pretty cold sometimes.

 

Resting his arms on the railing, he watched his breath steam into the air and dissipate, over and over. A quick look down at the street below made him wish he could just jump and never hit the ground, soar into the night sky like the bird he’s named himself after. It would be much easier if he _was_ a bird, especially now, if he could get away form all this…

 

With a rough drag of his fingernails against his palm, Clint shook himself back to reality.

 

He knew he hadn’t been the same since Loki invaded his brain. Having a god in your head didn’t just go away, no matter how hard he tried to forget. When he dreamed, there was blood on his hands and he couldn’t wash it away no matter how hard he tried, and when he was awake… he struggled to remain himself.

 

Whatever Loki did to him, it had broken something in him, something he couldn’t fix. He was confused at best, delusional at worst. Physical sensations kept him grounded to reality, but sometimes he couldn’t help but slip.

 

Natasha told him he acted like a bird sometimes these days, perching on high places and picking at his food. He’d begged her not to tell Fury, knowing that he’d never be allowed on the field again if the Director knew. _Compromised_. That was the word for his state now.

 

 _I don’t want a new partner_ , she’d told him, _but you can’t slip, Clint. If you’re going to compromise our cases, I won’t have a choice. For your own good._ So far, he hadn’t slipped, and she never told anyone. He was determined things stayed that way.

 

And now the person who did this to him was dead, and nothing had changed. He wasn’t magically healed, and his heart didn’t feel any lighter. That was, probably, the worst part.

 

He didn’t regret throwing Loki’s actions in Thor’s face. But he wasn’t _happy_ the God of Mischief was dead.

 

He didn’t know if it was part of the magic Loki had used, or if he was developing some weird Stockholm syndrome type thing, but he should be pleased and he wasn’t. He was mad and delusional and one hell of a head case, he was confused and angry and _hollow_ , but he wasn’t happy, felt only the tiniest hints of satisfaction. And he was out here in a sleeveless shirt on a cold evening wishing he was a bird, and Loki was sitting on the railing next to him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Oh,” Clint automatically stiffened, glaring at the god. “I’m hallucinating.”

 

The apparition didn’t answer, and Clint kept talking. It wasn’t like anyone else was listening, no one that wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

 

“Why did I have to hallucinate _you_? You’re _dead._ ” He was supposed to be rid of him now, wasn’t he? Once again, he received no answer. Fucking great. His hallucination couldn’t even talk.

 

“You must be really pleased with yourself. Even by dying you managed to hurt Thor.”

 

Pain flashed briefly over Loki’s face, replaced quickly by that amused-yet-indifferent expression he had before. That was weird. Why would Hallucination-Loki be _hurt_ by Thor’s grief? There was pretty much no reason for Clint’s subconscious to make _that_ up.

 

“I’m going insane,” Clint shook his head, digging his nail into his palm hard enough to draw blood. The hallucination didn’t go away.

 

Steps sounded from inside the building, getting closer every moment, and Loki raised a finger to thin lips in the universal gesture for _don’t say anything_ , eyes meeting Clint’s momentarily before disappearing in a flash of green.

 

Natasha came out onto the balcony seconds later.

 

“Were you talking to someone?” She asked, leaning on the railing with her back to the street.

 

“No.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, and he knew she didn’t believe him. She didn’t force the topic, though, and he was grateful for that. “Are you going to be ok?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The sarcasm in his voice was more than enough to convey everything he didn’t say, about his dementia and about Loki and Thor and everything else.

 

“Whatever you’re feeling right now, it’s not wrong,” she said, and her words hit a bit too close to home because how the hell could it _not_ be wrong? He should be happy. And if not, he should be grieving, for Thor, if nothing else. He shouldn’t be angry. He shouldn’t be indifferent.

 

“I’m fine, Nat,” he said, just a shade harsher than he wanted.

 

“You will be,” she promised, and she was convincing enough he almost believed her.

 

And he knew he was lucky that she was still there, even in the sorry state he was in. And he also knew she would continue to be there, whether because of actual affection or because she felt she still owed him a debt. They were both messed up in too many ways to count. They both had too much blood on their hands. But at least they weren’t alone in that. And in time, maybe that would be enough.

 

***

 

Tony found Thor sunk deep in a couch, staring at his hands with an empty look. He looked a bit more composed than earlier, like he was just barely holding himself together.

 

Tony hovered by the door before drawing attention to himself, trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to comfort Thor over the death of his psychopathic brother. What was he supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry’ clearly won’t cut it. He’d taken two tankards from what was left of the feast, and was holding one in each hand, trying to keep them balanced. A peace offering of sorts.

 

It took him a moment to realize Thor was saying something, muttering to himself over and over the same words. “Loki… brother… I couldn’t save you… I’m sorry… so sorry…”

 

“You ok, big guy?” Tony finally brought himself to ask.

 

Thor looked up, not meeting Tony’s eyes. He didn’t look surprised Tony was there. Maybe he was just beyond caring. “I… do not know.”

 

“Look, I didn’t know what you wanted this feast for,” Tony had to say. “I thought you were celebrating. If I knew, I probably wouldn’t have… you know. Celebrated.” He finished with a shrug and slight grimace.

 

“I told him I lost all hope I had in him,” Thor said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

 

“Well, to be fair, you had every reason to—“

 

“I refused to call him brother,” Thor continued, not talking to Tony at all, but to some point in the air in front of him, voice still unusually quiet. “I left him in the dungeon and wanted nothing to do with him. When Mother died, I refused to grieve with him. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him of her death myself.”

 

“Your mother…” Tony started, “She also…” fuck, no wonder Thor was this broken. His mother and brother dead, and only his douchebag of a father left…

 

“She died bravely. A warrior’s death,” there was actual pride in Thor’s voice now, some kind of messed up Norse thing probably.

 

“And Loki? Did he die a… warrior’s death?”

 

“He saved my life. He took a blade stopping the creature that would have killed me. His death was as honorable as could be.”

 

“Are you _sure_ he’s dead?” Tony had to ask, considering what happened last time the Trickster had ‘died’. “I mean, you already thought he was dead once, right?”

 

“I was with him when he died,” Thor closed his eyes. “I saw the life leaving his body. I fear that this time, he is truly gone.”

 

Tony walked around the couch Thor was sitting on, planting himself in a couch next to him. Some of the mead spilled over the rim of the tankards, and he held one out to Thor. “You know, I can’t say Loki and me were buddies or anything,” understatement of the century, probably. “But he was your brother. And he saved your life, so we owe him that. Plus, I think we might have gotten along if he wasn’t, y’know, out to kill us.”

 

The look Thor gave him was confused, like he was wondering exactly what Tony was trying to get at.

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is this,” Tony explained, “I think Reindeer Games deserves another drink. Can’t risk dishonoring him or anything, right? Wouldn’t be proper.”

 

“Of course.” This time, Thor took the offered tankard. “To Loki,” he said, taking a deep gulp of the liquid.

 

And even though Tony was already drunk off his ass, and far too full to feel like drinking anything, he raised his own tankard as well. “To Loki,” he echoed.


End file.
